


Caught Gasping

by Unquiet_Words



Category: Naruto
Genre: Founders Era, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/pseuds/Unquiet_Words
Summary: I haveso muchI should be working on, but all my brain wanted was to shit this out instead.





	Caught Gasping

If anyone were to give much thought to what Tobirama did on his rare off days, even with only a passing understanding of his person they’d probably assume he’d only work more. To be fair, for most days they wouldn’t be wrong. As the younger brother of the shodaime hokage, Tobirama rarely  _ had _ off days - and being the technical Senju clan head due to Hashirama’s position in the village, most of his ‘off’ days were spent running about the Senju compound and dealing with what he couldn’t get done during the work week.

All of his own official duties left little time for personal projects, which meant the few hours he could spare during the weekends went straight to his jutsu and scientific studies. Both of which were difficult to focus on with his brother so often being free during the same hours, lounging about their home or inviting the equally loud Uchiha over to freeload on their food and hospitality.

It might be surprising for most, then, to know Tobirama so rarely did any of the above when the house was his - in the quiet hour or two he could find maybe once a week, when he was free and Hashirama was otherwise occupied.

He had a routine, as with everything in his life. The first few parts of which were significantly less risky than the rest. A quick and efficient wash, because he knew from his studies how absolutely disgusting an unwashed body was. One of his more comfortable and worn yukata was waiting for him to slip on, not so worn to have unsightly holes or for the thread to be thin but enough to not care if it might get a touch soiled. He didn’t bother with under-robes of any sort, tying the yukata loosely before leaving the washroom, double and triple checking his brother’s location as he padded down the hall to fetch a few things from his bedroom.

This was where his actions could be rather damning if he didn’t tread carefully. He collected a few candles from his desk, some lotion from the bed stand - the oil would be horribly messy and was hardly needed for any private sessions outside of his room, no matter how tempting it was to go further than he usually did.

But the most damning item he collected last, running a gentle hand through the white fur before picking it up as well.

As he always did, he located his brother’s chakra again, making sure it was stationary and far from home. Once he made sure it was safe (as safe as it ever could be), he left and locked his room out of habit, heading for the living room with his heart already beating a touch faster.

He’d never really had a rebellious stage, but something about how inacceptable his actions would be to the public excited him. Not enough for him to ever  _ admit _ to what he was doing, but enough to risk setting up his candles, the scent of vanilla filling the room. Enough to grab the patchwork quilt his brother had done his best to make last summer, moving it from the sofa to cushion his back as he settled into Hashirama’s loveseat. Enough to sink into the chair with the heavy fur pelt wrapped around his shoulders, the smell of Hashirama’s body wash still lingering on him from his recent bath, sandalwood and something else he couldn’t ever name strong and heavy and right in all the wrong ways.

Every second he spent on himself there was a risk. Every moment passed one less he had, one less between him and when his brother would return home.

He still took his time. As was the case with everything he did, Tobirama hated to be rushed. If he was to do something he was going to do it  _ right _ , with not a second wasted nor pushed too quickly just to ‘get things done’.

If a quick orgasm had been all he’d wanted, that could have been achieved easily enough in the wetroom - with less mess to deal with after as well. No, it wasn’t just the high of release he was going to allow himself, otherwise there would have been no need for any sort of preamble.

With one final check of Hashirama’s location, Tobirama closed his eyes, inhaling deep and slow. He kept a hand on the fur - a present from his brother many years ago, given long before he’d ever considered Hashirama anything but a caring and doting brother - the other skimming featherlight down his chest. A little because it felt nice, a little because the touch grounded him and Tobirama had always found it difficult to quiet his thoughts.

He fiddled with the edge of his clothes, rubbing the light fabric. Playing with the end of his obi as he built a scene in his mind. Glimpses over the years of what he desired made it easy to imagine his brother’s bare form, all tanned skin and muscle, long hair slipping over his shoulders as he leaned down over him. The expression was harder to craft - paper doors and walls in the old compound meant he knew  _ exactly _ what Hashirama sounded like when he took himself in hand, but no amount of longing and strained ears gained him a glimpse of what he might  _ look _ like while giving or receiving pleasure.

Would he be shy? Brave? Unashamed or hesitant? Tobirama had done this so many times he’d lost count yet he couldn’t ever decide which of them was the most likely - but he knew which he wanted at that moment.

In his mind Hashirama’s scent was so consuming because he was close, both of them dripping from a shared bath. His eyes would be tinted darker, hands sure as they found his obi and slipping his yukata open. One warm as it skimmed up and down his stomach, across his chest, tongue flicking out to wet his lips - a second’s consideration, and the scene shifted, Hashirama sinking to his knees before him as Tobirama’s breath hitched.

His own hand felt nothing like a tongue or mouth. Far too calloused and rough, a bit cold from poor circulation - he breathed harshly through his nose as he cracked one eye open to find the lotion, burying his face in the fur as he took himself in hand once more to try again.

Really, he had no personal experience with what he was trying to imagine. But a few embarrassing looks into his brother’s trashy romance novels told him enough to bury himself in what it  _ might _ be like. His brother’s tongue flicking out to lick the tip of his length, his thumb rubbing the path it might take. Fingers skimming where Hashirama might kiss down his shaft, his heart beating ever harder in his ears imagining their eyes meeting as his brother took him in his mouth.

He lost himself easily to the moment. Wondering what sorts of sounds Hashirama might make while sucking him off, how much pleasure he might find in doing so. Imagining his eyes half-lidded, lips a little swollen, one hand sneaking out of sight to touch himself.

Tobirama spared a thought to committing this particular scene to memory to use later, because in little time at all his breaths were near shuddering, eyes shut tight as he forced himself not to race to the finish. As much bliss release brought him it was the moments right before, when desperate pleasure was racing hot through his whole being, that he enjoyed the most. And with his face pressed into the soft fur Hashirama had given him, the scent of Hashirama’s body wash clinging to him, the image of Hashirama on his knees with tongue working him over, Tobirama built his pleasure ever higher, ready for it to crash down around him-

“T-Tobi?”

Even as horror drug him right back to reality he spilled his shame all over his own hand, a whimper escaping him before he could stop it.

He’d let himself go too far. Lost in his lewd daydreaming, he hadn’t felt Hashirama’s approach at all - and now his brother stood not a dozen feet away, his hair a bit wind swept, expression blank as he took in the mess before him.

“Ahhh…” His mouth was too dry, voice a bit breathless, and he winced at how obvious it made his activities - not like the hand wrapped around his now spent cock hadn’t been a dead giveaway. “You’re...home early.”

“I am.”

“...and how was the meeting?” He should really have redressed. Or at least covered himself. But the voice screaming in his head was convinced moving would make this real so all he did was slowly sink further into the chair, semen slowly dripping down his fingers and stomach, hand squeezing just a bit tighter when Hashirama’s gaze shifted to his unclothed privates.

“Not as pleasurable as your’s, I think.”

He’d never felt so small or ashamed in his life. And when Hashirama stepped towards him all Tobirama wanted to do was find a hole to crawl in, the only saving grace preventing him from fleeing that instant being that there was no physical proof of his fantasies.

Until his brother stopped short a foot away from him, his eyes widening a fraction as he took a deep breath. “You used my soap?”

His throat went dry. “...I was out.”

A moment’s pause, and Hashirama’s gaze swept over him. “In my chair?”

“I’m doing the bedding.” A lie. A poor one at that. They both knew he only ever did bedding on Saturday mornings, barring a mission.

Hashirama went quiet, his eyes flickering from the fur to the quilt, the chair, his exposed form. All the while Tobirama sunk further into despair, wondering just where he might live now that he’d certainly just gotten himself disowned by his own brother-

With a single step forward, Hashirama crossed the remaining between them, a warm hand wrapping around his wrist to tug his hand away from his now soft cock. And for a brief and insane moment Tobirama thought he might cut the hand off as a sick sort of punishment for his unethical desires.

Instead of feeling searing pain Tobirama ended up gasping, eyes shot wide open as his soiled hand was brought up to Hashirama’s mouth, his brother licking a strip clean on his palm.

“Otouto.” Hashirama leaned over him, Tobirama’s breath catching at the clothed mirror of his own fantasy. “I think we have some things to talk about. Maybe in my room, because of your bedding?”

He didn’t wait for an answer - to be fair, Tobirama wasn’t sure he could’ve given one. As it was all he could do was gape at his brother’s back, frozen in shock as Hashirama walked away over what he was daring to believe was an  _ invitation _ .

An invitation into his brother’s room.

Into Hashirama’s  _ bed _ .

Tobirama shot up and only just managed not to scramble after him, not bothering with fixing his clothes beyond keeping a hand on the fur to keep it from slipping to the floor. Contemplating this rather surprising turn of events could come  _ after _ finding out what Hashirama actually looked like lost in the throes of passion and pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> I have _so much_ I should be working on, but all my brain wanted was to shit this out instead.


End file.
